A Matter of Trust: London Calling Book One (16 page)

Bennett watched his grandfather expertly slide seasoned steaks into a sizzling hot pan. Not able to sit doing nothing, Bennett joined him to crack black pepper over a large bowl of torn salad greens. He casually tossed the whole bowl to mix the ingredients before turning to a fresh one where he started making a vinaigrette. They worked in tandem, long years in the kitchen together allowing for seamless harmony.

“So when do you plan to clean up this mess you’ve made? I assume you want to?”

“Yes.” He broke off. Dazed, Bennett forgot to breathe as he stared at his grandfather in dumfounded wonder.
Where had his objections gone?

“What?” Charles plated the steaks before taking the bowl of salad from Bennett’s numb fingers. Adding portions of greens to each plate, Charles slid them over so they could sit at the island in the kitchen. He lined up napkins and cutlery, and filled both wineglasses while Bennett watched, mouth slightly open.

As Charles settled himself on his high-backed stool, he patted the one next to him in invitation.

“Come on, let’s eat.”

Bennett nodded his head, and then walked around the counter on jerky legs. He stared at his plate, a slow smile widening until it spread across his face.

“I know it’s a good-looking steak, but what is going on with you?”

“Yes, I’m going to fix my mess, Granddad.” Bennett let out a bark of laughter, grabbing his knife and fork. “Of course, it’s partly her mess, too. She’ll need to do some of her own fixing.” Devon hadn’t made a single attempt to correct the misconceptions he harbored about who Dominic might be. What he was to her.
 

Any man would have assumed the worst.

Charles hastily swallowed a bite of steak. “Now let me offer a little advice, Bennett.”

“Hmm?” Bennett was upbeat now, eager to get things back on track.

“When it comes to women, sometimes it’s best to fall on your sword. Take the fall, so to speak.”

Bennett savored his steak, groaning his approval. “Granddad, you really are the best cook I know. I swear you could give some of London’s best chefs a run for their money.” He dabbed his mouth with his linen napkin before relishing a sip of wine. “Now don’t worry, but Devon’s a little different than most. She’s very strong-minded. Volatile. And we need to start as we mean to go on. She really has acted poorly, now that I think of it.”

Charles mumbled something, but Bennett couldn’t quite catch it. “What was that, Granddad?”

“I think it’s a good thing I’ve taught you how to cook. That’s all.”

Puzzled, Bennett cocked a brow. Sometimes Charles could be tangential, but he still seemed to have all his faculties.

His grandfather shook his head, reaching over to pat Bennett on the back of the hand. “Never mind. You’ll learn everything soon enough. Here’s to women.”

Bennett raised his glass. “To women.”

***

“Dominic, I finally have you to myself! I have no idea how you’ve been entertaining yourself, but I appreciate your independence. I’ve been a poor hostess.” Devon grimaced as they walked from the tube to a connecting bus stop.
 

“Devvie, you’re perfect. And you know I like being on my own. We’d kill each other if we were in each other’s hip pockets.” He squeezed her hand, sharing the old joke. They’d grown up with lots of time on their own, comfortable with no one or only each other as company. “But what is this incessant need you have to haul me around London on foot, tube, or train? Can’t we grab a cab for crying out loud? It’s not like we can’t afford it.”

He stopped in his tracks to complain, tugging Devon around by the hand until she faced him. Heaving a sigh, she patted his face. “I save all my old money, from before, in investments. You never know when you might need it and I don’t have a multimillion dollar IT firm keeping me afloat.” She pulled on him with her other hand, the one he still held captured. “Now, are you saying you’re too delicate for public transportation? You sound like Natalie.” She missed his arrested look, turning back toward the bus stop.

“What do you mean?” He dropped her hand, following in slower strides.

“Well, I doubt she sets foot in anything less than a hired taxi. You’re the one that calls her
Toff
. I swear you’re such a flirt. And she likes it.” Grimly, Devon continued, anxious to catch the bus that would take them to the gardens in time to explore while there was good light.
 

After a quick hesitation, Dom teased in return, “Of course she likes it, Dev. Who wouldn’t?”

Devon laughed, but only because she was meant to. “As long as you keep it to teasing, I don’t care if you flirt with half of London. Just don’t forget what I asked and what you promised. You’re my cover. But the longer you’re here, the more I worry about your libido.”

He was saved from answering by the bus that pulled up to the curb. With a gentle hand to her back, Dominic urged Devon to board first. By the time they were settled in seats next to each other, the conversation dropped.
 

“Where exactly are you taking me?”

“City of London Cemetery gardens.” Devon practically bounced on her seat, anticipating the ancient burial site. “You know how I love it.”

“Good God, is that where we’re going? Of all the sites in London, you haul me to a graveyard? You must have the same morbid fascination as ever. I had to drag you out of the old crypts around Savannah.”

“I was hardly hanging about
inside
the crypts, Dominic. I just like the feel of the old places.” Devon never shared why she’d begun visiting cemeteries as a young child. Not with anyone. Now, as an adult, it was true she’d developed an attachment to them over the years.

He looked at her for a long moment before linking hands again. “All right. I’ll indulge your abnormal hobby. At least your mood’s improved slightly. I was getting worried about you a week or so ago.”

Devon looked out the window as the scenery passed by. “I accepted a few things. Bennett helped me remember some hard truths.” She wheeled in her seat, facing Dom. “I know you thought I was being unreasonable at the time, but we’re not for the likes of the Bennetts and Natalies of this world, Dom.”

“What exactly do you mean?”

“You and I. We’re different. We come from a different place they’d never understand.”

“So we should live our lives alone?”

Devon furrowed her brow, thinking. “No, well, I don’t know. I only know it would never have worked between Bennett and me. And you’d have wound up hurting Natalie.” She stopped when Dominic frowned, squeezing her hand a little too hard. “You know you would have.”

He slewed his eyes sideways to meet her gaze. “I know, Devon.” A muscle in his jaw bunched. “I know.”

***

Later that evening, Devon found herself alone again, Dominic having made some excuse to go out. She fought off the old familiar feelings of abandonment, telling herself she wasn’t lonely. Restless, she wandered her flat. She’d picked up odd knick-knacks over the years since she was a young teen and earning some money.
 

She ran her hand over a smooth slice of agate from Georgia, admired her whimsical brass owl bookends. At the small table she’d fashioned as a working desk, she picked up a dainty white ceramic sleeping cat her father had bought her. It had been his answer to her repeated pleas for a pet.
 

Idly, Devon moved her index finger along the Persian’s porcelain back. What was stopping her from getting a pet now? She quickly dismissed the idea, telling herself she was too busy, worked too many hours. The memory of her father’s voice rang in her ears.

It would be a burden. We’d only have to leave it behind.

Devon winced, shying from the reminiscence. After that, she’d feared becoming a burden herself, so she’d made herself as useful as possible. And the thought of leaving something behind, something she loved, was so distressing she never mentioned a pet again.
 

She carefully replaced the kitten, walking away from the uncomfortable recollection.
 

Where had Dominic gone?
 

She paused. Being preoccupied with her own problems and Bennett, she hadn’t been able to place her finger on it. But something seemed different about Dominic lately.

She plopped on the couch, picking up a cup of tea that had gone cold. Maybe it was her imagination. Maybe she was moping about, thinking too much, making up crazed scenarios. Really, what could he be up to?

 
He had a brilliant IT security business. He was hardly apt to risk that for far-fetched schemes she might dream up. It was more likely he was tucked away in a local cafe catching up with email and projects. She knew Dominic well enough to know he could work among tens of strangers with absolute focus, yet she drove him crazy simply by breathing in the same room.
 

So why was she suspicious?

She drained her cup, thinking. Sometimes when she came home, she’d get the impression he’d arrived just before she did. No matter that he might be lounging in the sitting room, shoes off, reading a book with a half empty glass of wine at his side. There was a restrained energy about him, simmering below the outward appearance of lazy calm.
 

He drummed his fingers in restless rhythms on the back of the sofa, something Dom never did. He was adept at being still, easy when others became tense or anxious. He considered it too revealing to make unconscious movements, or to say unnecessary things.
 

Devon’s own thoughts sped as her adrenaline kicked up.
 

Sometimes he smelled different. There would be a freshness, like he’d been outside in the brisk autumn air. She’d rationalized it, not seeing why he wouldn’t say so, rather than telling her he’d been inside all afternoon reading or relaxing.
 

And when she hugged him, like yesterday, she’d caught the scent of blooms, floral and greenly verdant. She’d remarked, but he’d dismissed it as a sample of travel shampoo he used.
 

But he was staying with her, sharing the products she stocked in the guest bedroom’s bath. And those weren’t flowery at all.

Was he seeing someone?

A knock at the door startled her out of her musings. Rising, she smoothed a hand over her hair before going to open the door. Taken unaware, she took a quick step backward before recovering her composure and grasping the door, still on its latch.

“Bennett. This is unexpected. What can I do for you?”

“For starters, you can let go of that door and let me in, Devon. Christ, I’m not here to murder you.”

Irritation replaced surprise with swift efficiency. Shutting the door with a resolute click, she waited a full beat before unlatching and reopening it to Bennett’s patient amusement. She turned on her heel, uncaring of manners.

“All right then, is this going to take long? Do you want something to drink?”

“How could I resist such a gracious offer? I’d love some wine.”

Devon stared as he proceeded to walk into her kitchen and start opening random cupboards.
 

“Can I help you? What is it you’re looking for?”

“Devon, I just told you. Some wine, a nice red if you have it. Please try to follow along.”

She pushed a hand in front of him to close the cabinet he was busy looking into. With a sour look, she moved to a pantry and emerged with a corkscrew and an Italian red.

He simply grinned, taking both items from her and deftly uncorking the bottle. With a raised brow, he looked toward the cupboards again, but she intercepted him by fetching two glasses and pushing them towards him on the counter.
 

He poured both glasses and was walking out of the kitchen with them before she found her voice.
 

“Wait, where are you going?”

Turning back, he answered, “You didn’t expect us to stand in your kitchen and drink these did you? Really Devon, let’s be civilized.” With that, he resumed walking into her sitting room where he took a seat on the sofa they’d shared so many weeks ago.
 

Devon sat in an armchair, several feet away.
 

Bennett smiled at her, benignly, before patting the seat next to his and gesturing at her wine, which he’d placed on the table in front of the sofa.

“Why don’t you come a little closer? I won’t bite.”

She half-stood, awkwardly bending to reach for her wine while staying planted in front of her chair.
 

“No thank you, I’m fine where I am. Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

He crossed a leg while leaning back to eye her, one arm propped nonchalantly across the back of the sofa. He swirled his wine before taking a cautious sip, then smiled genially.
 

“Very nice,” he decreed. “Aren’t you having any?”

She gritted her teeth before impatiently tipping up her own glass and draining a quarter of the contents in one long swallow.
 

“Wonderful,” she said flatly. “
Bennett, why are you here?
”

He set down his glass, giving her one long, level look. “I am here, Devon, because there’s been a misunderstanding between us. It’s time for it to end, so I’m not leaving until things are cleared up between us. In fact, I’m rather hoping I don’t leave at all.”
 

She sat back, staggered at his presumption.
 

“You and Dominic. Don’t pretend to not know what I’m talking about.”

“Why don’t you explain, slowly, so I get it.” A gradual burn warmed her body, working its way up.

He blithely ignored her sarcasm. “You let me believe there was something going on when there wasn’t. I assumed the worst, yes, but you allowed it to go on longer than needed.”

“And how exactly would I have spoken to you? You walked out, leaving this flat then the country by all accounts. Correct?” Her voice had steadily risen to an imperious demand.

“Because you had another man here! Anyone would have—”

“I’m not interested in what anyone would have done, Bennett.” She sliced through his objections with pinpoint precision. “I was interested in
you
. But when
you
returned, after leaving me no opportunity to speak—”